I wrote this poem in October of 2024.
just call me J.Lo without the ass because my ex
(if we can even call him that) came back to me
after 2 years of sobriety
we’re the low rent version of Bennifer
since we’re not millionaires
or celebrities (yet)
I’m just a working class immigrant poet
and he’s my ex whatevership nordic muse
I wrote this poem in October of 2020.
He swallowed 2 years of my life without meaning to.
He swallowed 2 years of my love that he never intended to
He swallowed all of my intense and innermost feelings
and left me with an emptiness inside.
He swallowed my confidence and turned me into a broken shell of a woman.
And slowly I’m trying to gather the broken pieces and repair my soul–
I wrote this poem in October of 2019.
A blanket of anger and sadness
envelops me
as you dispose of me
once again
I hope this time I learn for good
that you only carry
destruction and devastation
within you
and that you will never love
or care for me
and that you’re a self absorbed
piece of shit
A blanket of anger and sadness
envelops me
And I hate you
but I hate myself even more
for wasting my time and love
on someone who never
deserved it
for trying to see love
and affection that was never there
for falling in love
with a charismatic coward
I wrote this poem in September of 2024.
what will be done with pure intentions and in alignment with my values
will nurture my creative spirit, will be the ultimate recipe for success
and will be a legacy of authenticity for future generations
Sometimes I wonder who I’m doing it for
and I find the answer when I look in the mirror
when I look at my sons
what I imagine my grandchildren
and I’m committed again to my life’s purpose
I wrote this poem in September of 2024.
I’m a master magician of emotional alchemy
transforming my suffering into poetry
I never meant for it to happen that way
but life gave me no other viable option
it was either I became magician or I died
and the spark within me was too strong
to give into my self pity and depression
so here I am
making sense through poetry out of my madness
and the nonsense life has thrown at me
and done my best with it
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
my emotional hangover drains me
and anxiety and insecurity sets in –
He makes my heart race-
He inspires poetry
He’ll be another tragic love story
I know he’s not a “finally”
He’s more of a “maybe”
maybe he’ll leave , maybe he won’t
I wonder how he’ll grow tire of me
I wrote this poem in September of 2024.
there’s a love poem for me being written somewhere in the universe
and it will appear in the most unexpected way
it won’t be something forced, it won’t be something illicit or immoral
it will fit perfectly into my chaotic world of community and poetry
and while this man is bound to get on my nerves (like they all do)
He’ll be strong enough to withstand my nonsense and mood swings
He’ll be the lover daydream I’ve been waiting for since I was 15
and my kids with watch us and say “ew, cringe”
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
Will your light illuminate the dark and negative thoughts I have about love?
or will you be another one who fill me up with more self doubt
and makes me feel worthless
Will you really mean it when you tell me you love me?
or will you leave the minute I lose my shit?
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
Your butterfly kisses trace the small of my back
and as I lose control with fiery desire
you take me in your arms
and drown me in your love
until I scream
and then mark me with you lips
to let the whole world know
about your passion for me
I wrote this poem in September of 2024.
beast hurry up and come find me
it’s been a year since I’ve been married
two years since I had sex
and three years since I’ve been
in real relationship
I’m a thirsty and have a yearning
to break my vow of celibacy
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
Stepping out of my chrysalis I stare with awe at everything
I see a world in color and no longer in black and white
I feel a true sense of freedom and no longer restrained
by society’s expectations of who I’m expected to be
and I am finally free to be who I was always meant to be
I wrote this poem in September of 2024.
the sound of my love will not come with “I love yous”
or cute little texts with heart emojis
the sound of my love comes in loud waves of poetry
in the playlists I make dominated by Taylor Swift
and Conan Gray
the sound of my love is a lightning bolt
that will not be ignored
it’s me telling the audience
I hate being vulnerable but I cannot quell
the romantic girl in me
when she feels something and then reading
a love poem she wrote
I wrote this poem in September of 2024.
warm and wild thoughts go through my mind
if only you looked my way one day
and saw me as an object of desire
ugh, it’s that time again
I must be ovulating
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
The moon guards and protects me as I lose my sanity
as I drink too much
as I search for someone’s touch
the moon sends the Goddess
with a message of awareness
and I wake up from my trance of self destruction
and start an inner healing revolution
my purpose was never to be diminished and objectified
it was my judgment gone awry
and I try respect and worth on for size
my beauty is not all there is to me
I’m a mosaic of intelligence, love, and creativity
never a barbie to be treated as a reward or trophy
I wrote this poem in September of 2024.
soon we’ll be back to business as usual
obsessing over taylor and travis
clicking on clickbait about ben and jen
finding another celebrity to cancel
over some politically incorrect crime
of their past
soon we’ll go back to business to usual
as mothers still mourn their children
over another violent tragery
that never should have happened
soon we’ll go back to business as usual
as my son and his friends are hypervigilant
over anything suspicious
at 13, this world has taken away their innocence
soon we’ll go back to business as usual
as we go back to our stupid jobs
whether that’s a 9 to 5 office setting
or back breaking labor
as if evil didn’t happen at our community’s door
soon we’ll go back to business as usual
and I’ll write another poem about unrequited love
or the ex I dreamt about last night
soon we’ll go back to business as usual
except this time I’ll carry a when and where
in back of my mind
waiting for it to happen again
Life on the BPD 